


Coercion

by DoctorChimera



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Cuntboy, Deepest lore from the depths of my ass, Dubious Consent, M/M, Spanking, Undressing, Vaginal Sex, defloration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorChimera/pseuds/DoctorChimera
Summary: In Old Yarnham, Djura traps the Hunter and employs an old-fashioned method for disciplining his captive, who guards an endearing little secret.
Relationships: Djura/The Hunter (Bloodborne)
Kudos: 79





	Coercion

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Bloodborne fic. The PC Hunter in this story is based off my own, in both physical appearance and temperament. However, I chose to shape him into more of a blank slate character by making him a literal selective mute.
> 
> I'll admit, this story mainly spawned out of a self-indulgent fantasy. As an eccentric transman, I understand that not everyone is into stuff like this. But hey, if there's a niche, I'm willing to help fill it (pun not intended).
> 
> As always, please comment if you enjoy. Suggestions are also welcome. As of writing this I understand there's a shortage of Djura fics, and I really enjoy him as a subject (NSFW or otherwise).

Relieved to finally be out of Djura's line of fire, the Hunter continued his hunt through the next area of Old Yarnham: A cathedral long-abandoned, at least by the likes of mankind. There was a horde of beast patients patrolling this area—the largest concentration he had encountered so far—but it was nothing he couldn't manage.

With the church finally free of threats—and that terrible, demonic chanting silenced at last—he decided to catch his breath for a spell, taking a leisurely stroll through the quiet, high-ceilinged area.

There were a few useful items laying about, but the most notable sight was the immense corpse of a Bloodthirsty Beast suspended from the ceiling. The remains were chained to a large chandelier, its form positioned into the crude likeness of a crucifixion.

Ready to face whatever new horrors were waiting for him, the Hunter pressed on. However, he wasn't prepared for what would happen next. As he approached the exit, something shiny laid out on the elegantly-carved altar caught his eye. In his haste to cross over and inspect it, he didn't notice the snare trap draped across the floor until it was too late.

The Hunter cried out in surprise as he pitched forward. He braced himself for a fall, but instead found that something had seized around his ankle, wrenching him upward until he was suspended several feet above the pavement.

After the initial shock of remaining alive and in one piece had worn off, he silently cursed himself for letting his guard down, nonetheless. To his credit, however, the whole place was adorned with chains, like some kind of morbidly festive streamers. Combined with the poor lighting conditions, it probably could have happened to anyone.

But what would become of him now? In his panic, he had dropped both his weapons on the floor, so shooting himself down was out of the question. And worse, if a beast were to come along and find him like this ...

Just as he was wondering how long he would be forced to dangle here in this gloom with only the stench of a decaying carcass to keep him company, The Hunter's thoughts were cut short by a voice that sounded far too delighted for his comfort.

"Well, well!" came the mocking cry from somewhere above. "Looks like I've managed to catch myself a rat, after all! Ah, but don't you worry, dear Hunter—here I come!"

With that, Djura disappeared from view. He would be heading down the ladder now, only minutes away at most. A fluttering sensation filled his belly as the Hunter began to panic. In one last, desperate attempt to escape, he thrashed forcefully about, but it was useless—the chain was so snug around his ankle that he couldn't even managed to slip out of his boot.

Still, he continued his determined struggle even as the Ashen Hunter stepped through the entrance of the church. To his surprise, the older man ignored him at first, walking right past him to survey the carnage of the fallen beast patients. Though Djura was out of his sight, the Hunter could hear the sorrow in the cluck of his tongue, followed by a heavy sigh.

"You," he said in a whisper, cold and low. "You really have no idea what you've done, do you?" He crossed slowly over until he was face to face with the Hunter. "Which is why I intend to teach you a lesson."

"To simply kill you would be a wasted effort, of course. So, for you, dear Hunter, I have something else in mind. And next time I catch you hunting here again, I'll make sure you get more of the same, you hear?"

As Djura took a hold of one of the Hunter's wrists, the latter instinctively tried to fend him off with a swing of his free arm. To this, Djura swiftly retaliated with a blow to the belly—just hard enough to stun the younger hunter, who cringed and groaned in pain.

"I advise you not to struggle, as you'll only make things harder for yourself," Djura explained coolly as he stripped off the Hunter's coat, plucking away any vials along with any other consumables he could find. "You're at my mercy now, Hunter. You can either do as I tell you, or else I'll feed you to what remains of Old Yarnham's population. And though you may think returning to the Dream is the easier option, let me inform you that such a death would be neither quick nor painless."

"So tell me, do I have your cooperation?"

The Hunter reluctantly nodded his assent.

"That's a good lad," he praised. "But just one more thing before I cut you down ..."

There was a soft click as Djura fastened a pair of metal cuffs to the Hunter's wrists.

"There we go."

A shot then rang out as he fired a round from his blunderbuss into the chain, dropping the Hunter onto the stone floor. Fortunately, his instincts kicked in at the last second and he executed a smooth roll that softened the blow.

"Ah. Just as expected from a hunter truly worth his salt," Djura admired, poised over the crouched form. "Or, should I say ... _blood_."

He took hold of the chain dangling from between the shackles and hauled the Hunter onto his feet. "Now come," he commanded, leading him out of the church. "And don't try anything stupid, or you'll surely regret it."

The Hunter was led a fairly short distance away, into the decrepit remains of an abandoned home. They didn't cease their march until they came to a room at the top of the stairs. Thanks to a broken window, the room was bathed in the reddish glow of the setting sun.

With a calm deliberation, Djura fastened his captive's shackles to a hook that hung from the ceiling near one corner. It was a similar rig, the Hunter noticed, to the ones from which the corpses—bodies of those who had fallen victim to either the Beast Scourge or the Ashen Blood sickness that preceded it—were suspended throughout the city's cobblestone streets.

"Very good," said Djura, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "And now, for your punishment ..."

The older hunter hadn't forgotten about the interloper's weapons. Before departing the church, he had confiscated them along with the other tools, storing them securely on his person. He now produced one of them—the Threaded Cane—and fingered its bloodied edge thoughtfully.

"I see you favor this particular weapon," he mused. "I wonder, do you have any idea how many of my beasts you've slain with this wretched implement?"

The Hunter remained silent, for, even if he had an answer, he could not speak it.

" _I_ know." Djura went on. "I counted the bodies left in the wake of your destruction. I know the exact number. And soon, you shall have that number carved into your miserable hide." He set the cane down on a dusty table and rummaged into the belt at his side until he found what he was looking for.

"I wonder how you'd like to be on the receiving end of a whipping?" he said to the Hunter as he brandished the short leather whip, "One lash for every life taken. Yes. I do believe that's more than a fair exchange, don't you?"

The Hunter flinched as Djura came near.

"Of course," he continued, placing his hands on the Hunter's hips. "If we're going to do this properly, you're going to have to show a bit more skin."

The Hunter was seized by a dread so powerful that he couldn't fight the urge to resist. He aimed a kick at Djura, but the latter was too quick—he immediately countered by pinning the Hunter against the wall, one knee planted firmly between his legs.

"This is your last warning, lad," he growled, his fist curled underneath the Hunter's cowl as he pulled his prey in close to his own face. "Either you let me drop your trousers or I'll strip you completely bare before I throw you to a pack of hungry beasts. Now, what'll it be?"

The Hunter could only stare back at his captor, a pleading expression in his one visible eye.

"I see," said Djura, setting him down gently, "At least, I think I do. This will hurt your pride more than anything, is that it?"

It was as close to the truth as he could get.

"Well then," Djura shrugged, "If a bruised ego is what it takes to put an end to your wanton slaughter ..."

The Hunter closed his eyes as Djura fumbled with his belts and buttons. Before long, his trousers were pooled around his knees.

"Now turn around," he instructed. Relieved to have his modesty at least partially spared, the Hunter complied. When Djura yanked his knickers down unceremoniously, however, he stiffened up once more.

 _"Bend,"_ came the next command, as a hand pushed firmly between his shoulder blades. The Hunter flushed heartily, but did so with little resistance.

Djura took a moment to admire the exposed ass before him, licking his lips in anticipation. The boy might have been a good deal fairer than he'd expected, but that wouldn't save him from atoning for his sins.

The sound of a whistle broke the silence, followed by a crack as the first blow landed sharply on the Hunter's flesh. He made no sound. It hurt, but he was more than accustomed to a little pain by now.

By the tenth stroke or so, he started to feel sore. By the twentieth, he was stinging.

But there was something else, as well. A dull, but unmistakable tingling sensation, located somewhere between his navel and his fundament.

By the gods, was this act of degradation actually giving him pleasure?

As the number approached thirty, the Hunter could no longer refrain from uttering a soft little cry each time he was spanked. For Djura was now aiming for that sensitive spot on each side where the thighs and bottom meet.

"Yes, that's it," growled Djura. "You're really starting to feel it now, aren't you, boy? If I can make you feel even a fraction of the pain you've inflicted on those creatures, then perhaps you'll change your tune."

Craving more of the young hunter's delicious cries, Djura quickened his tempo. The short yelps soon gave way to anguished moans. Pleased, the retired hunter paused to appreciate his efforts.

"Almost finished. Let's see how you're holding up, shall we?'

With his gloves removed, he ran a hand over the inflamed buttocks, relishing the heat beneath his palm.

The Hunter, meanwhile, was only pushed closer to the edge by the surprisingly delicate touch as the hand slid down to the base of his cleft. His thighs were trembling. He began to pant. Taking note of this, Djura felt a slight pang of remorse. Had he been too harsh, after all?

And then he noticed something else.

"Oh? What's this, now?" he muttered. Startled, he withdrew his hand. The tip of his thumb was moist, but not with blood. When he took a closer look, he could see a glistening trail of fluid oozing down the inside of the Hunter's inner thigh.

Djura narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

The Hunter gasped as he felt the weight of Djura's body pressing against his back. One hand cupped his chin and tilted it back while the other reached around to the front, where two fingers curiously probed along his hot, wet slit.

"If I'm not mistaken, that's a cunt you've got there," he breathed, his voice hot and ticklish in the Hunter's ear. "And my, is it awfully slick."

Djura was now fully aware of his own arousal as it throbbed against the Hunter's behind. He silently cursed the fact that his newfound enemy had become too desirable to resist.

"So, this is what you were trying to hide, wasn't it? Well, no matter. In a world where men can sprout fur and fangs, I suppose it's no more of a shock to find one with a snatch instead of a prick. Although, to your credit," he thumbed the engorged clitoris, impressed by its size and enjoying the whimpering that accompanied his touch, "you're not exactly poorly endowed."

"But I digress," he said, pulling away. "The last thing I intended was for you to take pleasure in your punishment, damn you! Just look at you—mewling and quivering like a beast in heat! Have you no shame?"

Once again he grabbed hold of the Hunter's ass and spread him wide, revealing two very tight, eagerly twitching, virginal holes.

"Very well, then. You leave me little choice," Djura decided, teasing between the tumescent nether lips with his bell-end, "I must ravage you, dear Hunter, the way you ravaged Old Yarnham."

The Hunter shouted and arched his back in response as the full length of Djura's cock slipped inside of him. His insides burned with each thrust, but, just like with his whipping, the pain was quickly superseded by a desperate pleasure that drowned out all other sensations.

Although it was mainly the older hunter's incredible girth that made him ache terribly as it claimed his virtue, he knew it could have been much more agonizing had Djura not maintained such a gentle pace. A strong, well-muscled arm supported him under his knee, keeping it aloft as he fucked him from behind.

With his vagina completely filled for the first time, the Hunter was experiencing a satisfaction heretofore unknown to him. He'd pleasured himself many times before whenever the need arose, but this was different. Something deep inside of him—some part he never even knew was there—was being stimulated. And when Djura reached around to stroke his manhood, it sent him completely over the edge. Fearing he might, in fact, be succumbing to some sort of frenzy, he wailed as an earth-shattering orgasm overtook him.

Savoring the heavenly contractions pulsating around his member, Djura found it difficult to pull out, but did so before he lost his own erection. He wanted to give the Hunter ample time to recover before resuming intercourse.

"Finished already, are you?" Djura teased, caressing the soft belly as it rose and fell with each heavy breath. "But we've barely just begun, my pet."

Freeing him from his bonds, Djura turned the Hunter around and laid him out on the hardwood floor.

"Let me see your face," he implored, rolling down the cowl that obscured most of the Hunter's features. He was delighted to see the delicately-shaped nose and mouth that lie beneath, lips parted as his panting continued. The lad was fair, indeed.

"This cap," noted Djura as he plucked it away—allowing the shoulder-length raven hair tucked underneath to spill down in waves—and examined it briefly before setting it aside, "is modeled after mine, you know. On your next hunt, let it serve as a reminder of what I'm trying to make you understand. But for now, let me taste you ..."

Brushing away the lock of hair that covered the lad's other crimson eye, Djura leaned down and kissed him hungrily. He expected the Hunter to resist, but instead was surprised when the latter wrapped him in a welcoming embrace—arms and legs alike—allowing their tongues to explore one another.

Taking the hint, Djura broke the kiss and, kneeling in front of him, all but tore the Hunter's pants right off and spread his legs wide. With loving care, he guided himself into the familiar warmth once again and continued the slow, rhythmic pumping of his hips. Before long, the Hunter could feel the urgency rising up inside of him again. His toes curled. Tears flowed from his eyes freely. His teeth were gritted as he dug his nails into Djura's back.

"That's it, now," coaxed Djura, "Come for me again, my darling Hunter."

The Hunter cried out as the waves of a second climax washed over him, prompting Djura to finish with a grunt mere seconds later.

The two of them spent, Djura collapsed beside the Hunter, drawing him in close.

"Look what you've gone and done to me," he lamented, fondling the youth leaning against his chest. "I must be getting soft in my old age."

The Hunter reciprocated by caressing the lined cheek, as if to say, "That's exactly why Old Yarnham needs you so much. Never change."

Once the two of them recovered from their post-coital stupor, Djura cleaned himself up, and offered to clean his companion as well. There was a bit of blood on his own penis, and the Hunter was expelling not only that, but a rather copious amount of seed mixed in with his own fluids.

After a careful washing, Djura did something unexpected. Hoisting the Hunter over his lap, the latter momentarily tensed up, bracing for another beating. Instead, however, it quickly dawned on him that Djura simply wanted to tend to his lacerations as well.

Although the Hunter was more than willing to bear the marks of his punishment, he nevertheless accepted the gracious offer with relief as he submitted himself to Djura's tender ministrations.

Sometime later, after all of his clothing, weapons and other personal effects were returned, the Hunter was led out of the dwelling and the two of them took a walk through the city. As they passed by the corpses of the beasts who met their demise at his hands, the Hunter turned his head away in shame. He suddenly stopped and clasped his hands over Djura's—the pair of crimson eyes gazing earnestly into the jaded silver one—beseeching his forgiveness.

"I won't say I'm any less infuriated by your actions, dear Hunter, but if I wasn't willing to forgive you for it, then that would be rather hypocritical of me."

"Fortunately for all of us, you didn't seem to make much of a dent in the total population. As it just so happens, the little buggers are curiously fecund and have been propagating like rabbits. Not many survived the cleansing that night, but well ... it only takes two, as I'm sure you're well aware. In time, the ones who were cut down will be replaced."

With both men equipped with torches, Djura demonstrated how to safely navigate the area while maintaining a respectable distance between themselves and the beasts, who cowered in the presence of flames.

As they made their way through Old Yarnham, Djura took the opportunity to properly explain his reasons for becoming the city's protector. As they paused here and there so that Djura could scatter some scraps of meat about for his charges, he told the Hunter about his own time spent contracted to the Hunter's Dream, the burning of Old Yarnham, the loss of the Powder Kegs, and his growing disillusionment with the Healing Church and the Hunt itself.

As they stood near the stairs overlooking the Church of the Good Chalice, Djura placed a hand on the Hunter's shoulder.

"Listen to me," he said. "I may have managed to keep you from disturbing Old Yarnham, but I'm not foolish enough to think you'd cast aside your hunter's vows."

"In fact, if you've any hope of succeeding where I failed, a few more beasts may have to be sacrificed so that the rest of humanity doesn't share their fate. As much as it pains me, I've come to accept this."

The Hunter considered this, gazing at the far-off lamp. The ethereal chimes beckoned him, and he knew it was time to move on.

"It looks like you'd better be on your way," affirmed Djura. "But before you go ..."

He rummaged around in his pack for something and handed it to the Hunter. The Powder Keg Hunter badge. "A token of our friendship."

The Hunter closed his fist around it and held it to his chest before putting it in a safe place. He would cherish it.

Djura extended his hand in a gesture of good will. The Hunter took it and squeezed it amiably. He thought about giving the old hunter one last kiss or embrace, but reconsidered. Such a thing would surely only make their separation more difficult.

But as he turned to leave, it was Djura who pulled him into his arms.

"Remember what I told you," he whispered. "Find a way to put an end to the cycle of the Hunt. It's our only hope of salvation."

Djura felt a rekindling sense of hope as he watched the Hunter take off. As soon as the lad reached the threshold of the cathedral, one last thought occurred to him.

"Hunter!" he called after him. The youth turned back to look at him.

"I meant what I said about what I'd do if I caught you trespassing here again, so keep that in mind!"

A flush blossomed in the Hunter's cheeks, but underneath his cowl he was grinning.


End file.
